


room 4B

by investigate1d



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Credence Barebone - Freeform, Credence Barebone Lives, Fantastic Beasts, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Gen, a year after fantastic beasts' ending, credence - Freeform, credence survived after all, letters from credence, letters from newt, newt scamander - Freeform, this is gonna be very long
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-15 17:43:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 4,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9248858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/investigate1d/pseuds/investigate1d
Summary: in a small apartment located south of new york city, 1927, half a year after many witches and wizards were to believe the obscurus that was known as credence barebone had been destroyed, strange letters begin to arrive and depart from the mail slot belonging to floor 2, room 4B.





	1. Chapter 1

_March 10th, 1927_  
  
Dear Mr. Scamander,  
  
I do not wish to place my true name anywhere on this letter, as I am in hiding. I hope you understand.  
  
But, sir, you know me. I can tell you that much. While our only meeting was one in which I wish I could erase from my memory for good, I need you to remember so that I can speak to you about what is happening at this moment.  
  
I do not have any friends, and I no longer have the family I used to. You are the only person I can reach out to, and I hope that does not put any pressure on you. But I believe that I can trust you, because before I had even spoken a word to you, you were kind to me. That is not something I have a whole lot of experience with.  
  
As I said before, I am in hiding. Nobody that knows me now knows my real name. I now go by William. I am in constant fear that I will get bad again. I try not to suppress anything, but I find it hard when no one around me knows what I am. I hardly know what I am. If it is allowed, may I ask how you know? How you are able to control yourself?  
  
I suppose I probably would have known more if my parents could have told me. Is that where you learn? Those lessons and teachings intertwined with a child's regular growing up? I think of this often.  
  
I need your help, Mr. Scamander. That is the gist of this letter. I struggle with not knowing who I am beneath the surface. I struggle with containing myself, and knowing what I can and cannot do. I do not know exactly what of you I am asking, only that it is from you that I need it. Please, sir, write back soon.  
  
Sincerely,  
  
_William, "C"_


	2. Chapter 2

_20 March 1927_

Dear "C",

I apologise for the late reply, things are a bit of a mess at the moment.

My first question for you, how are you alive? And, how long have you been at the location you're at?

I very much would like to help you, C, but at the risk of these letters being discovered, I am not sure how much I can do. Of course I can give you some pointers, but that may be the most I can do for you here. Anything more, and I believe we'd have to meet in person. And for that to happen, I would need to know if you're stable. Has anything like before happened again? Are you working? Are you socialising?

You need more than ever to indulge in what you are, but with that being said, you cannot let anyone know what you are. Please be mindful of the company you keep.

C, I can come to you if that's what you need. But not for some time, for reasons that I cannot discuss over a letter. I hope you, too, can understand.

And, please, call me Newt.

Sincerely,

_N.S._


	3. Chapter 3

_March 21st, 1927_

Dear Newt,

I cannot express how happy I am that you were able to remember who I was. A weight has been lifted from my shoulders.

In response to your questions: I do not know how I am alive, I simply found myself wandering days and days after the incident. It took some time to come back to my "regular form". 

I have been living in this building for nearly four months. And I am working, yes, in a post office.

I do not socialize often, more often than not it is when my coworkers speak to me. I want friends, I am just not sure how to make them.

And no, nothing like before has been repeated. I would say that I am currently stable, Newt. I understand that you are not from this country and that a trip here would take some time, but please try to do so when you can. I'm scared.

Sincerely,

_C_


	4. Chapter 4

_25 March 1927_

Dear C,

I wouldn't forget you, C, that I promise.

I believe you are a kind person, and that if you find the effort within yourself to speak to others before they speak to you, that you can make friends. I really do. Despite what you had grown up being taught and forced to believe about yourself, I do think you have so much more potential than let on. I would love to help you find that potential.

You must begin without me, though. I've been working on my schedule so that I can find an open slot of time to come to New York again. I owe another friend a visit as well.

But, unfortunately, the trip can not be made for at least a couple of months. I'm sorry. I do hope you feel that you can get by until then, C. If I could get there any sooner, I assure you I would. And if anything were to clear up before then, I would take that time to visit.

I am confident that by the time I receive your next letter I will have a date, or at the least a time frame, to give you for my arrival.

Again, I am so very sorry. But I believe in you, that has not changed.

Sincerely,

_N.S._


	5. Chapter 5

_March 27th, 1927_

Dear Newt,

Words cannot express how grateful I am that you are willing to come to me. I believe I can wait the few months you say it will take to come here. The wait will be worth it.

I would like to take this time to thank you. For the time you have taken to write back to me, the night in the subway, and your willingness to give me help. Thank you, Newt. Thank you.

I believe all there is left to do is wait for more information. I apologize for not being more descriptive in these letters, but I assume you feel the same way.

Until next time,

_C_


	6. Chapter 6

_30 March 1927_

C,

I'm very pleased to tell you that I've found a week in May to travel to you. It took some rearranging of my schedule and bargaining on my part, but I have purchased a ticket.

In the meantime, I'd like to get to know you better, if that's alright with you. We are not complete strangers, but if we're to be spending a week together, I feel it'd be best if we knew a little more about one another beforehand.

I would begin myself, but I would rather know your opinion on sharing personal details before I start to. So, please write back soon. I look forward to seeing you again, even if you would rather not talk about yourself.

_Newt_


	7. Chapter 7

March 31st 

* * *

April 1st

* * *

April 2nd

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April 3rd

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_April 4th_

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_April 5th_

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_April 6th_

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_April 7th_

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_April 8th_

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_April 9th_

* * *

_April 10th_

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_April 11th_

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_**12**_

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_**13**_

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_**14**_

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_**15**_

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_**16**_

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_**17**_

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_**18**_


	8. Chapter 8

_19 April 1927_

C,

It's almost been a month since your last reply. Please tell me you're safe. Are you alright? Write back to me.

_Newt_

* * *

_23 April 1927_

C,

Are you receiving my letters? I need to know that you are safe.

_Newt_

* * *

_25 April 1927_

C,

We are getting very close to the date of my traveling to you. I have been looking into what's going on at the moment in New York and have not heard anything that would indicate something like last year's incident has been repeated. Please tell me what is going on if not that.

_N_

* * *

_30 April 1927_

C,

I am coming to you in two days. I returned my ticket and purchased a different one. Please be alive.

_Newt_


	9. Chapter 9

_May 3rd, 1927_

Clutching a handful of letters in one hand and a light, clearly worn-out suitcase in the other, Newt Scamander stepped out through the revolving door and into the heart of New York City. He had just come from the bank to transfer some cash into American dollars, and now needed to catch a cab he hoped would take him the distance he needed to reach the home in which Credence Barebone now resided.

He had remembered a few pointers he'd learned from reading up on the books about American lifestyle, and what was needed to know when traveling to America. Stuffing the wrapped stack of letters into his coat pocket, Newt hesitantly stepped up to the edge of the sidewalk and jutted his now-free thumb into the air. He felt absolutely stupid. But to his surprise, a cab halted to a stop less than a minute after he'd done so.

To his luck, the driver was willing to take him to the return address on Credence's letters, as long as he was willing to pay extra for the ten miles out of the driver's radius.

* * *

Newt stood outside of the building Credence had been living in for the last four months, and sighed. The place, even from the outside, made him sad. Moss grew not only on the sides, but around the windows of the individual's rooms. He could see it had even reached the front door, but had been maintained. Everything was rusted, the door's handle looking as if it was in its last days. Inside, Newt saw the line of mail slots to the right side of the hall. Names of the residents were scrawled onto slips of paper and taped over each slot. 

_'WILLIAM TORRENCE, 4B'_

Newt nodded to himself, suddenly remembering his hurry. He took the steps two at a time up to the next floor, stopping at the door with 4B in crooked, silver letters plastered onto it.

He knocked once.

Silence.

And again.

Still nothing.

His eyes closed and he willed himself not to worry. Credence _did_ have a job. He could be there now.

With a brief glance over his shoulder, Newt plucked his wand from his inside coat pocket and pointed it toward the door's handle.

 _"Alohomora."_ he said shortly, and put his wand back.

The sound of a lock clicking replaced the silence and he gently turned the handle. Newt shut the door behind himself and set his suitcase down quietly. "Hello?" he called, listening for any kind of movement.

When he was certain he had heard nothing, Newt ventured further into the apartment.

While the building itself was in bad shape, Credence had taken well care of his private space. Newt was pleased at that fact, and saw it as a good sign. The few books he had were in a neat stack, he noted an empty sink, cleared floor, clothing in a hamper. It all looked...normal.

Newt couldn't help but wander, but remained cautious as he did. It was eerily quiet, which made him wonder just how many people actually lived in this building. It almost seemed as if Credence were the only one.

But he remembered the other names over the mail slots. Other people _were_ here, he had to remember that.

A yellow journal caught Newt's eye, amongst the stack he found in Credence's bedroom. He felt bad for going there, but maybe he'd find something he needed to know.

Carefully, he pulled it from the other books and sat at the edge of the twin sized bed centered in the room. Opening to the first page, Newt's eyes struggled to find _one_ place to look. The entire page was filled with tiny, neat handwriting, top to bottom. He blinked a couple of times, caught off guard.

_'It is the first day of January, 1927. I have purchased this journal in hopes of keeping track of my progress. Or in other cases, lack thereof. I want'_

"It _is_ you." said a sudden, yet quiet voice.

Newt jumped up, slamming the journal shut. Instinctively, his hand went to the pocket inside of his coat, when his eyes met the voice's host. He pulled his hand back instantly. Releasing a tense breath, Newt brought his lower lip between his teeth and smiled.

"Credence."


	10. C R E D E N C E

_May 3rd, 1927_

He couldn't believe it. Newt was _here_ , sitting in his bedroom. Of course, he had a feeling something was off when his door was unlocked, and when he'd stepped inside there had been a suitcase that didn't belong to him on the floor. But to actually _see_ him.

"It is you." Credence repeated, still bewildered.

Newt shifted uncomfortably and pulled the hand that had gone for his wand away from his coat, to extend toward Credence.

He took it, shaking it gently.

His eyes averted once the handshake and initial shock were gone, and found himself suddenly in an awkward position. Newt was here, yes, but for what reason? Their meeting wasn't scheduled for another month, and besides. Newt had stopped sending him letters weeks ago. 

Credence nervously nibbled at the inside of his cheek and allowed his eyes to flicker to Newt's face for only a moment, gauging his expression.

Finally, Newt spoke.

"Where have you been?" he asked, and Credence noted a hint of accusation in his tone.

"I - at work. I was at work. Why are you - how are you -"

"No, I mean where have you been for the last month, Credence?" he asked, softer now. 

He had no clue what was going on or what Newt meant by the question. Surely, Newt had just gotten here?

"I - here? I've been home, and working. Just that, only that. Why?" he asked, voice quiet with uncertainty.

None of this was making any sense to him. The surprise visit, the silence for the past month, the fact that Newt seemed to be slightly agitated. And suddenly, he realized Newt was holding something that belonged to him. Redness flushed to Credence's cheeks and he struggled to speak up about having it returned. He merely nodded to the yellow journal still in Newt's hands.

Newt's brows furrowed, but he glanced down and quickly held the journal out to him, "My apologies. That was rude of me to go snooping."

Gently taking it from his outstretched hand, Credence mumbled a 'thank you' and tried to refocus on the topic at hand, while simultaneously trying not to think of what Newt could have read in his absence.

"Why - why did you stop writing to me?" he eventually asked, eyes glued to the journal in his hands so he wouldn't have to see Newt's expression when he answered.

To his surprise, Newt sounded shocked.

"What are you talking about? I've been writing to you relentlessly. It's been quite expensive, too. Muggle mail is surely a joke." he said, mumbling off towards the end. But continued, "You mean to say you haven't gotten any of them? Have you sent anything to me?"

Credence couldn't comprehend. He _worked_ at the post office for goodness sake, how could he miss multiple letters addressed to himself?

"I haven't, no," he replied softly, still trying to work things out in his head while he spoke, "but where would yours go? I don't - this doesn't happen very often. I do the sorting myself. Nothing has come my way, I promise I would have seen it."

Newt was standing now, absentmindedly pacing around the bedroom while Credence took his place on the edge of the bed and watched.

Minutes passed and Newt's expression continued to change from confused, to upset, to worried, to irritated, and so on. But more often than not, it fell on worrisome.

Credence had his lips pursed tightly, trying not to let any of his anxiety show. The journal was held tightly in his wrapped arms.

Finally, Newt stopped pacing and turned to Credence. With a slight sigh, he nodded once, as if to confirm with himself before he spoke.

"I think, maybe, Credence, my letters were intercepted on their way to you. I think, and you would not believe how much I hope this not to be true, that someone knows you're alive. And they know that I am planning to help you."


	11. N E W T

_May 4th, 1927_

A night had passed since Newt had realized what was going on. Since then, he had made some progress with gaining Credence's trust _in person_ , which helped quite a bit for when he explained what they would be doing next. Currently, the two sat in the living room of Credence's apartment, various clothing and suitcases surrounding them. The disorder seemed to make Credence uncomfortable.

"We leave first thing tomorrow morning," Newt said absentmindedly, using his wand to lay out a few documents he'd conjured up for Credence's new-new identity, "this should throw off the pursuer, but only for a brief time. Depending on how intelligent they are, which I would assume would be _very_ , if they've found you here."

Credence looked apprehensive, but also curious, at the sight of Newt using magic in a natural environment, rather than what he had been used to in the past.

"My name?" he asked softly, scooting against the edge of the couch's cushion to scan over the overwhelming amount of papers on his coffee table.

"Roscoe Schofield." Newt replied, sliding an I.D to Credence with the flick of his wand.

Credence was startled, momentarily transfixed by the moving picture of himself. Where had that come from? _Why_ was it moving?

"What -"

"That's not the one you'll use for the trip. That's the one you'll use once we reach London. I have your...regular documents stored elsewhere, they're safe." Newt answered before Credence could ask.

The day was full of silence, packing, and occasionally, lighthearted conversation. But mostly silence. Credence was too scared to ask where exactly they were going and what they would do once they got there, and Newt was too focused on getting everything right for Credence's first arrival to a magical place. He did need to pull away from his concentration every once in awhile to actually _talk_ to him, though, because he truly did need to see if there was a chance of Credence going back under. So far, he just seemed quiet. Much better than when he last saw the boy, and a little less terrified of everything around himself.

The night seemed to end as quickly as it began, and before he knew it, Newt was making his bed on the couch again. However, the difference between this night and the night before lay in the fact that Credence hadn't hurried off to his room the moment Newt announced he was tired. He was definitely beginning to trust him.

Credence sat on the love seat adjacent to the sofa Newt now lay on, lips pursed in uncertainty. It took a few minutes of convincing himself, but he finally mustered up the courage to ask Newt a question he wasn't sure if he was allowed to know the answer to yet.

"Why London?" he spoke with obvious hesitance.

Newt internally debated lying to Credence, only to protect his seemingly calm demeanor he'd been displaying since he'd first come to his apartment. But he decided against it, because Credence wasn't a child. If he couldn't handle his answer, then, well, maybe that was a sign that this fleeing of the country was a mistake. And, really, he needed to know.

"We're going to visit my old school," he started off, almost leaving it at that, "where there will exclusively be other magical people. I believe there is a considerably larger chance of you being safe there compared to staying here. That is why."

He eyed Credence as he took the words in, and was pleased to see him nod slowly in response.

"However," continued Newt once gauging his positive reaction, "I really have no idea of knowing if you'll be permitted to stay there. I can't exactly check in in advance, for the sake of keeping you safe. But I've taken that into account, so I've made other arrangements if things don't go as planned."

Credence seemed to be taking the news well, so Newt pulled the blanket over his shoulders, silently letting the other know he was ready to sleep now.

Taking the hint, Credence rose from the small sofa and nodded a 'thank you' to Newt on his way out of the room, being sure to turn the lone light off. Newt heard a door close at the end of the short hallway.

For a few minutes, Newt lay in silence going over the plan in his head again. 

They needed to be out of the apartment by no later than 6AM. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he was pleased to see in his never-ending preparation throughout the night, he'd finished packing Credence's things. They would be fine. Things would work out. It was all he could tell himself. As long as he could get Credence onto the ship, they would be set for the next few days, and after that - well, there was still time to work out any kinks he might have overlooked. Once they arrived in London, however, would mark the beginning of new and more complicated acts of keeping Credence safe. Lying, bargaining, possibly begging, if it came to it. _Why_ did he feel like he was forgetting something? He refused to think of the many possibilities his plan could go wrong, and instead, slept.


	12. Chapter 12

_May 5th, 1927_

"Why did we have to get up three hours before we sail?" Credence asked sleepily, despite already having been up for nearly an hour.

Newt grinned, already feeling hopeful due to their head-start.

" _Because_ , Credence, one can only hope to be successful if they are always at least one step ahead of themselves," he replied, keeping a steady pace as he walked along the nearly-empty sidewalk, "besides, I thought it'd be nice if we could have breakfast without any rush."

Credence struggled to keep his pace, and soon Newt realized he didn't need to walk so quickly. He'd made plenty sure they had time to go at whatever pace they pleased.

Soon enough, the two were seated in the middle of an empty coffeehouse, a woman looking to be in her mid-thirties asking for their orders and trying not to linger on the luggage that took up nearly all of the space surrounding the table.

Credence watched as Newt read from a newspaper, not understanding the out-of-place look of disappointment on his face while he did so. It was also clear he wasn't impressed with the tea he'd ordered, though he wouldn't say so aloud.

"So," he quietly began, watching Newt's gaze shift to him, "how long is this trip?"

"Three and a half days, but granted this is your first time overseas, it'll go by rather quickly. New surroundings and such. I've purchased some medicine for seasickness as well."

They shifted from light conversation to silence, which neither minded. Newt had started to go over anything he may have missed or forgotten, while Credence drank from his coffee mug. It was his first time trying the stuff, and after realizing he didn't quite like it black, he'd dumped three packets of sugar into the cup. He, then, thought he liked coffee. Very much.

With no one else being in the coffeehouse, Newt decided it was an alright time to lay out the letters he'd received from Credence in the last month. He wasn't sure why, but he liked to have them. Most likely due to them having come by way of muggle mail. Ordinary to Credence, but beyond interesting to Newt.

In re-reading letters, remembering just what he had written to Credence in order to get the responses he read, it hit him quite suddenly.

Tina.

 _Tina_.

She is who Newt had forgotten. The one crooked step in his plan. Tina was to see Credence, to see him alive and well. It had to have slipped from his mind in his half-asleep stupor he'd been in two nights ago, the night he tiredly began to plan for Credence's escape, and in the end, new life. She needed to know, before they left. Because, in all honesty, Newt wasn't sure if or when Credence would be returning to New York.

"Finish eating, we have to make another stop before we head to the dock. I'm sorry, I promised there wouldn't be any rushing. I believe you'll like this one, though." he said in a tone that sounded urgent, but genuinely apologetic.

He wanted to be careful around Credence, as best as he could, anyway. Things wouldn't be perfect, but if he could prevent anything that would make the boy nervous or upset, he would. This would be worth any small discomfort, he was sure.

Tina and Queenie's apartment shouldn't be too far, he didn't think. He remembered the area well, but they were currently at least a half hour away from there. Again, he'd be paying extra fare to a lucky, or unlucky, depending on how you looked at it, cab driver.

Twenty minutes later, the two were stuffing their luggage into the trunk of a cab and climbing into the backseat, Newt already pulling bills out.

"Central Park, please." he said as he held the bills out, expression guilty for driving this cab out of its limits.

Of course they didn't live in Central Park, it was merely a starting point. He would know where to go from there.

All the while, Credence remained silent. Before he knew it, he would be in the same place he had caused havoc, destruction, and even a death. 

It was all he could do to not speak a word for the entire duration of the ride.


End file.
